


Baby you're so new age, you're like my new craze

by zelda_zee



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The biggest, or one of the biggest, pop stars in the world had just offered to have sex with him and Chris had turned him down. When you looked at it like that it was crazy. When you considered that the pop star in question was Justin, it was just self-preservation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby you're so new age, you're like my new craze

**Author's Note:**

> (You should probably see the video that got me started on writing this fic before reading: [Ayo Technology – 50 Cent feat. Justin Timberlake and Timbaland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kJ7FYgJ7Mo).)

Chris didn’t really like _Ayo Technology_ , though he would never have admitted it to Justin. He thought the song was lame, but what really bugged him was the video.

The first time he saw it he was just passing through his living room. The TV was on, the channel tuned to MTV, and there it was - 50 Cent rapping with Justin dancing in the background. Dancing kind of like he wasn’t exactly sure how one was supposed to dance to rap, but was trying real hard nonetheless.

That wasn’t the part Chris didn’t like. He liked that part. It made him smile.

The part he didn’t like came later, when Justin was making love to a door. That just seemed wrong, even if there was a super hot girl on the other side. It made Chris vaguely uncomfortable because there was no way that Justin should be _caressing_ a door frame, and in leather gloves no less, in a way that clearly said, _Door, you are the hottest thing ever!_

Oddly, the caressing of the door was much hotter than the ensuing caressing of the girl, but then, Chris reasoned, this was Justin, ergo it was entirely possible that he might find an architectural element such as a doorjamb more arousing than a really hot girl with killer lips in black lingerie.

Even so, Chris had to look away when Justin kissed the girl, because it was still pretty hot. And then when Justin looked coyly at the camera and mouthed _why don’t you sit_ , then shyly lowered his eyes for the _down on top of me_ , Chris swallowed hard, pretended like his dick had taken no notice whatsoever of the door-frame-fondling, goo-goo-eyed freak and vowed to never, ever watch that video again.

Which proved difficult to do, since it got played about ten thousand times over the next few hours, and if Chris happened to walk by when Justin sexed up that door a time or two, well hey, it was just the odds, you know?

Since Justin's face had been plastered all over MTV that day, Chris wasn't really surprised when he heard the strains of "You're So Vain" emanating from his cell.

“Dude!” Justin said. “Did you see it? Didja?”

“See what?” Chris decided to play dumb in the hopes of annoying Justin. It was something he did out of habit – trying to annoy Justin. Half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“The video, dumbshit! _The_ video, ya know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris declared.

“You – I told you, Chris." Chris could almost hear the pout over the phone. "I _told_ you. Don’t you remember?”

“Gee, sorry, J. Must’ve slipped my mind. Video?”

“The – the song, you know, the one with Fitty. They’re playing the video, Chris. It’s all over MTV and YouTube and everywhere. You haven't seen it?" Justin actually sounded sincerely disappointed. It gave Chris some small satisfaction that his opinion apparently still mattered to Justin, though to be honest Justin had never done a thing to make him believe it did not. Those were his own issues talking, he reminded himself.

“I guess I’ve been busy J. You know, there's been a lot of stuff going on lately and I haven’t had a lot time for –”

“Oh, hey!” Justin interrupted. “It’s on now, check it out, Chris. It’s awesome. Me and Fitty. He’s really dope, you know. Not scary or anything. We’re like, super good friends now. Oh, he says all that shit with Eminem was just hype, man. He never meant any of that. Fitty says – oh! There’s me! See, I’m dancing.”

Chris squinted at the TV. He just knew Justin would be mirroring the video, doing his special rap dancing moves.

“It’s supposed to be in London, but we shot the whole thing in LA,” Justin said.

“Oh, the miracle of technology,” muttered Chris.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Justin agreed. “Technology. Technology’s cool, but ultimately –” he paused while Justin on screen made what Chris thought of as his _money-money_ hands. “Ultimately,” Justin continued in a serious tone, “technology just isn’t enough.”

“I don’t know, J. There’s something a little creepy about you guys spying on those girls with x-ray vision or whatever. It’s kind of pervy and –”

“Yeah, kinky,” Justin mumbled, obviously distracted by what he was watching. “That’s hot.” Chris was about to say no, he wasn’t thinking it was kinky in a hot way, he was thinking it was perverted and stalkerish in a not-so-hot way, but Justin was still talking. “Oh, here’s – see, I’m spying – and she – and there! _A-yo_. Yeah, that’s cool.”

Chris sighed.

“And then I - _ooh, she wants it_ \- and see, then she - _uh uh, she wants it_. It’s like I got superpowers, dude.” Justin laughed breathlessly. "Oh, this’s Timbaland’s part. It’s cool, yeah. _Yo hips, yo thighs, you got me hypmotized_. Oh, there's me again.”

It was the part where Justin did the hands-on-hips, white boy chin thrust, turning in a circle thing. Chris thought it looked a little like the chicken dance he’d had the misfortune to witness at a cousin’s wedding. Maybe Justin had gone to a wedding in Canada once too.

“Yeah,” Justin murmured. “Cool.”

Well, thought Chris, that was open to debate.

“I don’t know about the blindfold. I thought it should be the girl who was blindfolded, not Fitty cuz that didn’t make any sense. But he said it turned a stereotype on its head, and yo, that’s what he’s all about, dude.”

“Sure. That’s obvious, J.”

“Okay, this’s the best part.” The camera zoomed in on Justin’s back as he stood in front of the door. Chris had been dreading this.

“See, it’s like she feels it when I touch – like that – yeah - and I run my fingers up and she arches and oh, yeah. _A-yo_. That's hot, isn’t it, Chris?"

“Yeah,” said Chris, "It's hot, J."

“Ooh! Close-up!” Justin exclaimed. “ _Why don’t you sit down on top of me_. You like that part? And now I - _uh uh, she wants it_. Isn’t that _awesome_? _Uh uh, she wants it_.”

Fucking kill me now, thought Chris.

“It is so awesome, J,” he said. “In fact, it is beyond awesome.”

“I _know_!” Justin laughed. Timbaland came on the screen. “So, my part was okay, right Chris? Did you like it? Oh, there, I'm kinda drumming now, I like that. Okay, that’s it.”

Thank God, Chris thought, as the video came to an end.

“Well?”

“It’s great J. Really great.”

“Do you think it’s hot though?”

“Yes. It’s hot.” Chris said, wishing Justin would drop it.

“But do you think I’m –”

“ _Yes_ ”, Chris snapped. “ _Yes_ , you’re hot, okay? Jesus, give it a rest, wouldja? You’re hot, you’re the hottest guy ever. That video is causing spontaneous orgasms all over the world because of your utter hotness.”

“Jeez. Okay. Mellow out, dude. I was just askin’.”

*

“I was thinking,” said Justin, when he called a couple days later. His voice sounded a little funny, kind of husky and breathy. “Maybe we should have sex again.”

For a long moment Chris said nothing, his mind a complete blank.

“I – we – _what_?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, um, lately. And I just wonder if maybe – we should – you know. Try again.”

He and Justin had had sex exactly once, in March of 2002, and only because they were both half drunk and Chris was very lonely and very horny and Justin was very unhappy and very insistent and in a much-regretted moment of insanity Chris had acquiesced to Justin’s argument that maybe a little sex between friends wasn’t such a bad idea. It had not been a particularly stellar experience for either of them. In fact, Chris did not think it was overstating the case to say it had been an unmitigated disaster.

“J.” Chris didn’t know how to respond. Never in a million years would he have predicted that Justin would want to repeat the experience. “I – uh. Shit.”

“No, I know,” Justin said. “I know it sucked last time. But, I just think, I’m older now and um, you know. More experienced.”

“J,” Chris said reluctantly. “Christ. I don’t really think that’s such a good idea.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry. Oh, hey I gotta go, Chris. See ya, okay? Bye.” The line went dead.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. The biggest, or one of the biggest, pop stars in the world had just offered to have sex with him and Chris had turned him down. When you looked at it like that it was crazy. When you considered that the pop star in question was Justin, it was just self-preservation.

*

“So, Fitty invited me to this party at his crib in Miami. Totally private, under the radar.” Chris could hear the suppressed excitement in Justin’s voice.

“Uh-huh. Cool.”

“You wanna come with me?”

“Um.” He and Justin didn’t do much together any more, so the invitation was something of a surprise. Chris wouldn’t mind going. He was curious to see what an ‘under the radar’ party hosted by 50 Cent might be like and he was curious to see Justin navigating that crowd, but at the same time… “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take someone a little more...”

“A little more _what_?” Justin asked impatiently.

“Young. Cool. Pretty. Famous. _Female_. Take your pick.”

“Shut up, dawg. I asked you.”

“Well, okay then.” What the hell, Chris thought. It was bound to be damned entertaining, if nothing else.

The party, as it turned out, was pretty boring. Somehow Chris had expected more of 50 Cent. He’d figured it’d be something sort of like the video, with girls in sexy lingerie dancing suggestively and guys sitting around smoking cigars and drinking top-shelf liquor and doing designer drugs. He'd figured there’d be lots of sex, possibly public, possibly kinky, possibly girl-on-girl and any or all of the above would have been just fine with him.

What he hadn’t expected was Fitty in a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron asking if he wanted a burger or a hot dog. Turned out that a totally private party at 50 Cent’s meant a backyard barbecue with lots of little kids and old people and a table heaped with enormous bowls of potato salad and coleslaw. There were tons of pretty women, but they were all just sitting around chatting with each other about clothes and makeup and occasionally yelling at the kids, no girl-on-girl action to be seen, and since there were a number of people who looked like they might be parents or even grandparents in the crowd, Chris figured kinky public sex and designer drugs were off the program. Justin looked totally crestfallen for about five seconds before he made a complete recovery and plastered on his “This is so awesome” face.

Later in the evening, Justin disappeared for a while and just about the time Chris realized he’d been gone an awfully long time and started wondering if he should be worried - then reminded himself that Justin was a big boy now and it wasn't up to him to keep tabs on him - Justin emerged out of the back door of the house and wove unsteadily through the crowd toward Chris.

He draped an arm over Chris’ shoulder and leaned in close, smiling crookedly at him, smelling of booze and pot.

“Hey,” Chris said, staring into Justin’s very bloodshot eyes. “I guess you found the grown-up party.”

“Uh-huh,” Justin slurred. “It was just a bunch of guys playing pool in the basement, but,” he lowered his voice secretively, “rappers have the _best_ drugs, yo.”

Chris doubted that rappers’ drugs were really that much better than anyone else’s, but he thought it entirely possible that the thrill Justin got from doing said drugs with rappers made it seem that way.

Justin was sort of hanging all over him, which was making Chris nervous because that was really not cool in this crowd and they were starting to get some funny looks. He tried to disentangle himself, but Justin just glommed on tighter, seeming to want to use him as a crutch to keep himself upright, which was kind of awkward – not that Chris was _that_ much shorter, it was just that Justin was so heavy. Chris realized that Justin was quite wasted about the time he started humming “A-yo, why don’t you sit down on top of me,” in Chris’ ear, his breath puffing humidly against Chris’ neck.

“What I said on the phone,” Justin mumbled, pulling back to look at Chris, blinking slowly and squinting at him, as if he was having trouble focusing. “I mean that. We should. We should totally do it. Dude.”

“Oh,” said Chris, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. Fortunately, they weren’t. “That.”

“Yeah, _that_. I wanna, man. C’mon, Chris. Please?” He tugged at Chris’ collar. Justin’s eyes looked so damn blue when they were bloodshot. The contrast was quite stunning. And he was so pale but his cheeks were flushed – Chris didn’t think it was embarrassment, because Justin was too fucked up to be embarrassed at the moment. The flush was probably just drug-induced horniness, which would explain this sudden turn in conversation.

Chris took a deep breath. This was not fair, not at all. Wrong place, wrong time, and most definitely, wrong man.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

On the flight back to Orlando, Justin sat quietly with his head on Chris’ shoulder. Chris thought he’d fallen asleep until Justin’s hand landed on his thigh, his fingertips trailing up the inseam of Chris’ pants. His fingers inched higher, then backtracked, then moved up again. Chris kept his breathing steady and didn’t say anything. He _should_ say something. He would. In just a minute.

Justin’s hand moved higher, higher, and then his fingers reached Chris’ crotch and he carefully rested one fingertip right over Chris’ dick. Chris took Justin’s hand in his and lifted it away.

“J,” he hissed. “What’s this about?”

Justin shifted away from him. “What?” he asked defensively.

“You know what. What’s the deal? I don’t get it," he said, trying to keep his voice down. It was only them and the pilot, but he didn’t want to take the chance of being overheard. "We fucked one time five years ago and agreed that we never needed to do that again. And now, all of a sudden…”

Justin didn’t reply. He just sat and bit his lip and looked at his hands clasped in his lap.

“You could have anyone –” Chris began.

“I don’t want anyone. I want you.”

“You do realize I’m thirty-five. Ancient and decrepit. Fat, washed up, over the hill –”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You’re so full of shit. And I don’t care how old you are, Chris. You could be fifty-five. I don’t _care_.”

Chris tried another tack. “Do you even remember the time we did it? Do you remember how much it sucked? You couldn’t look me in the eye for weeks.”

Color rose up in Justin’s face. “I remember,” he said sulkily.

“Do you remember freaking out?” Chris was determined not to cut Justin any slack.

“You were the first guy I slept with, Chris,” Justin mumbled. “And you were really nice, even when I… freaked.”

“You thought it was gross,” Chris reminded him.

“Well, it hurt!” Justin turned to him. “And it was so… messy and – I don’t know – rough.” Justin looked away and Chris felt a twinge of guilt at bringing it all up again. They hadn’t talked about it since that night.

“You’d been reading too many of your mom’s romance novels if you thought it was gonna be all neat and pretty.” Chris _had_ been gentle, as gentle as he could be. He had wanted Justin something fierce back then. It had nearly killed him to go slow, and then nearly killed him again when Justin had hated it so much. And so, despite the fact that he’d tortured himself for years with varying degrees of lust for Justin, he had no desire to go through all that again. He’d rather keep to the status quo, thank you very much.

Justin flopped back against the seat and covered his face with his hands. “I was a kid, Chris.”

Oh, great, thought Chris. Just what he needed to hear. Like he hadn’t already spent years feeling like a pervert.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Justin continued. “It was all way too much, too fast.”

“You were the one –”

“I know, I know. I was the one. It was my fault. I practically forced you into it. Don’t you think I know you never would have otherwise?”

Chris sighed. There was a reason they’d never talked about this. It really wasn’t any fun at all.

“You didn’t force me to do anything,” Chris said quietly. “I wanted to. I just wish it had been better. For you, you know? Your first time and everything.”

Justin nodded. He sat there beside Chris but not touching him, the biggest, or one of the biggest, pop stars in the world, looking uncharacteristically small and alone, and Chris was reminded strongly of how he’d been when he’d first met him, such a baby, awkward and innocent and insanely talented and more driven than anyone Chris had ever known before or since.

He tugged Justin closer until he leaned on Chris again, sighing tiredly and letting his head rest on Chris’ shoulder.

“It got better, right?” he asked. “Later? With, um, you know. Other guys?”

“Okay,” Justin mumbled. “Okay.” Chris wasn’t sure if that really answered his question, but thankfully Justin seemed to be drifting off to sleep, which meant they could stop talking about this now, so he shut up.

*

“You should totally come to New York,” Justin said, when he called Chris five days later. Justin was calling him a lot lately.

“New York?”

“Yeah, I’m in New York. For a thing. You should totally come. We could have a good time.”

"Hi, Chris", called a voice in the background.

“Is that Lance?” Chris asked.

“Yeah. We’re at his place. We’re going out. I don’t know where, somewhere cool, he promised. You should come up here. Like, now, dude. We’ll go out tomorrow, get all fucked up and do something stupid enough to make the tabloids.”

Chris knew Justin wouldn’t really do something stupid enough to make the tabloids. He was far too careful for that, as was Lance. As was Chris, to be honest.

“Yeah. No. I can’t. I’ve got rehearsal. You hang with Lance, let him take you out to his special Lance spots.”

” _Chriiis –_ ”

“I really can’t, J. Spend some time with Lance. You guys haven’t partied in a while. Lance is cool. You two should re-connect.”

Chris hung up, then sat staring at his phone. J and Lance. Maybe that would work. Maybe that would clear up this sudden interest Justin had in Chris. Maybe it was just a needing-to-get-laid thing and not a Chris thing, although Chris really couldn’t imagine why Justin might need to get laid. It wasn’t as if there weren’t a bajillion people out there ready to oblige.

And there was the tiny issue of Lance, who had never once given any indication that he was interested in Justin in that way. Whatever. They were adults now, Lance was out, Justin was horny, Chris was out of the picture. He tried to convince himself that they would find a way to make it work.

He was rehearsing with Rich and Jeff and Bryan in his studio a few hours later when Lance sent him a text: _y r u being a dick?_

Fuck. He stepped out into the hallway and called him back. He fucking hated texting. His friends texted him constantly, even though he resolutely refused to text them back. J was the only one who called.

“I am not being a dick,” Chris said when Lance answered. He could hear the bass thump of something techo-sounding in the background and the noise of a crowd.

“Hold on,” said Lance. There was a pause, and when he came back on the line, the background noise was more muted. “Hey, Chris.”

“Hey, yourself. I am not being a dick.”

“J said you were trying to foist him off on me.”

Chris frowned. “Justin said ‘ _foist_ ’?”

“Well, maybe he didn’t use that exact word. You know what I mean. What’s going on with you guys?” Lance’s voice was deep and slow. Chris could tell he’d been drinking.

“Nothing. Nothing, nothing, _nothing_. There is nothing going on.”

“That’s a whole lot of nothing, Chris.” That wise-ass tone of Lance’s really grated on Chris’ nerves.

“J’s just going through – I don’t know – a phase or something.”

“I’ll say,” agreed Lance. “He’s a little out of control. He’s making me take him to gay bars and he’s kind of, well. Let’s just say he’s in a friendly frame of mind.” Lance paused. Chris could hear laughter and whooping in the background. “Yeah, he’s a little out of control. I think he’s acting out.”

Justin acting out, thought Chris. My goodness. How unusual.

“Is he – You’re keeping an eye on him, right?” Chris asked worriedly. He hated feeling protective. There was no reason for him to. It wasn’t Chris’ job to look out for him anymore.

“Well, yeah. But, you know, he’s all grown up, Chris. I’m not his mommy.” Lance had always been fond of the hands-off approach when it came to any of them making asses of themselves.

“Just make sure there’s no photographic evidence, okay? I don’t care what he does,” which was a blatant lie, “just make sure he doesn’t get caught.”

“Hmm. I think you guys need to work on your issues. He’s all tied up in knots and it sounds like you’re in denial. You should just fuck and get it over with, for God’s sake.”

“I am not fucking Justin!” Chris exclaimed, a bit louder than he meant to. _Shit_. He peeked in the door of the studio to see Jeff and Bryan staring at him, wide-eyed. Rich was doubled over, laughing.

“Yeah, well. That’s the problem, far as I can tell,” said Lance, not at all fazed by Chris’ outburst. “Gotta go. Dude’s doing body shots. Man, I hope there’s no reporters in here.”

*

Justin called him the next day.

“I hate you,” he croaked. He sounded awful, his voice raspy and weak.

“It’s not my fault you’re hungover,” said Chris.

“It is,” Justin insisted. For a minute Chris heard only the sound of his breath shushing loudly into the earpiece. “You know it is.”

Chris said nothing, knowing that he could wait out the silence and that Justin would cave.

“Come to New York?” Justin finally asked in a small voice.

“No,” said Chris.

Justin hung up.

*

A week later Chris returned to his house at four in the morning after a Sureshot gig in Miami to find Justin in his bed, apparently fast asleep. Also, apparently naked.

Chris backed out of his bedroom and walked rapidly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He reached into the liquor cabinet, grabbing the first bottle his hand hit and tilted it back, downing a hefty swallow. It was orange curacao, as he discovered to his dismay, but that didn’t stop him from taking another swig.

“Insane,” he muttered. “My life is fucking insane.”

After rinsing out his mouth, Chris ventured back upstairs. Justin was laying on his side, his face turned down toward the pillow. The light from the bathroom slid over his close-cropped hair, making it glow like a freaking halo. Justin could bulk up all he wanted, Chris thought as his gaze rested on the sculpted muscles of his bare shoulders - he could cover every inch of his body in stupid tattoos, never grow those blond ringlets out again, and he’d still not be able to shake that angelic aura. It was as permanent as the brilliant blue of his eyes or the crazy perfection of his voice.

It was tempting, Chris thought, so tempting. He’d spent way too many years wanting Justin to simply shrug it off, but it could be – _would_ be – such an awful mistake. Justin was, after all, one of the biggest pop stars in the world and Chris was, to put it mildly, not. Justin was also, Chris suspected, possibly mostly not-gay – at least, other than that one time with him, Chris had never seen evidence to the contrary. The whole debacle of March 2002 – it had nearly wrecked their friendship and Chris wasn’t prepared to risk that again.

Friends who fuck – it’s easy to say, easy to imagine. Much more difficult to pull off, especially when the friends in question are both neurotic freaks, each in their own very special way.

He turned and headed down the hall to one of the guest rooms. The room was too empty and the bed was too big and the sheets were icy.

“Better safe than sorry,” Chris said out loud as he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t sound very convincing, so he repeated it a few more times until he sounded like he meant it.

*

Chris was up before Justin, maybe because he hadn’t slept a wink. Justin came downstairs around ten in just a pair of Chris’ sweatpants, which were about four inches too short and hung distractingly low on his narrow hips. No one should have hipbones like that, Chris thought sourly. It just wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” said Justin, flopping down on the couch beside Chris and staring blankly at the TV.

“Hey.”

Chris could ask Justin what the hell he was doing in Chris’ bed last night, except Chris had a pretty good idea what he was doing there and Justin knew he had a pretty good idea, so that just seemed like a waste of time. Justin’s bizarre campaign to get Chris to have sex with him might not make any sense, but at least he’d succeeded in making it impossible to ignore.

“You want some eggs?” Chris asked.

Justin looked at him in confusion. “Are you offering to _cook_?

“Hey, I can cook,” Chris retorted. “I cook really well.”

Justin snorted. “Since when?”

“Do you want breakfast or not?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Justin trailed after him into the kitchen and stood leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee and watching Chris crack eggs into a bowl. Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but the silence was kind of loud, which was weird because if there was something that could be counted on, some unchangeable universal truth, it was that Chris and Justin were two of the most talkative motherfuckers around, and usually when they were together they were talking all over each other, telling stories and joking and finishing one another’s sentences.

When they were halfway through their eggs, Justin suddenly said, “I know you’re laughing at me, but it’s not a joke.”

“Do you see me laughing?” Chris asked.

“I just don’t get why you’re being such a dickwad.” Justin put down his fork and gave Chris a stormy look.

“You know, Timberlake, I’m aware that it’s impossible for you to comprehend that there might be one or two misguided souls out there who don’t want to screw your skinny ass. I wouldn’t want to shake up your world view or anything, but the fact is, I happen to be one of them.”

Justin watched him through narrowed eyes. “Oh, I can believe that there might be someone out there who don’t want to screw me, Chris. I just don’t believe it’s you.”

God, Chris thought, trying to resist the urge to bang his head against the table. What had he done to deserve this?

“Have you even noticed that I’m kinda into girls these days?” Chris asked.

“So what? You’re bisexual, dude. It’s not like that changes.” Justin pressed his lips together, looking pissy as hell, which he had no right to be, because if anyone had a right to be pissed it was Chris.

Right. Pissed because Justin wanted to have sex with him. Chris was sure a reality existed somewhere in which that would make sense to someone other than him.

“Look, it’d just be a friend thing,” Justin said. “Friends with benefits, right? No big deal.”

“It’d be a big deal, J. Trust me on this.”

“It wouldn’t have to be. You’re the one who’s making it into a big deal, Chris.”

“Dude,” Chris said wearily. “Do me a favor, okay? Just… help me understand. Why? It’s been five years. Why now? I don’t get it.”

Justin flushed a little, but he barely paused before answering. “I know you, man. And I – I trust you. I don’t - there’s not many people I can trust, you know. About, um, that kind of stuff.” Chris’ confusion was probably evident on his face, because Justin added, “Sex stuff, I mean. And I want to – I mean, I always thought we should’ve tried again. You know, after I got over…” He trailed off.

“The horror of it?” Chris finished for him.

“No! It wasn’t horrible,” Justin protested. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Or, it kind of was, but that was my fault.” Justin sighed deeply. “I was in a bad place then.” He met Chris’ eyes. “You know how miserable I was, Chris. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best time.”

“Well, I don’t know how much timing had to do with it, J, considering that you thought butt sex was gross, you thought lube was gross, you thought my dick was gross...” _You thought I was gross_. He didn’t say that out loud though. “You thought –”

Justin covered his face with his hands. “I know! Jesus, _shut up_. I was an idiot, okay?”

“Okay,” said Chris, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, as long as we’ve got that settled.”

“I just want. Shit, I don’t want. Crap. I don’t want that to be _it_. I want to know.” Chris frowned at him, trying to follow. Justin spread his hands helplessly. “I mean, I know it can be better, but it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and – I’m not Lance, you know? Or JC. Or you.” Justin dropped his hands and Chris felt a little pang of sympathy at the pain etched across his features, even though Justin had just basically implied that three-fifths of NSYNC were indiscriminate mansluts. “I just. Please, Chris. You could totally pretend I was somebody else, if you want. I wouldn’t even talk. I’d be quiet and you could close your eyes and –”

_Christ._

“Just. Shut up, J. Just shut up.” He looked at Justin, sitting there beside him, looking tense and unhappy. Goddammit, he’d never been able to take making Justin unhappy. He sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead. “Why the hell would I want to pretend you were somebody else?”

Justin shrugged forlornly, but didn’t answer. Chris leaned back in his chair, putting two and two together, finally coming up with four.

“Was I the last guy you had sex with, J?” He was. He couldn’t fucking believe it, but he was.

“Um…”

“Because that is so lame.”

“Hey! It’s not the same as with girls.” Chris gave him a look. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“So I’m safe. That’s what this is about.” It all made sense now. Justin trusted him. There weren’t very many people Justin trusted, not with something that could blow his image out of the water and ruin his career. Still, his caution verged on paranoia which, Chris reasoned, maybe wasn’t all that surprising.

“No. Not – well, yes, you’re pretty safe. But that’s not all it’s about, Chris.” Justin glanced up at him. “You know that.”

Chris looked at Justin for a long moment. Justin met his gaze stubbornly, refusing to look away. Chris _knew_ Justin, as well as anybody did. Knew his faults better than Justin did himself. Hell, _way_ better than Justin did. Knew his good points too, and he knew Justin well enough to know that a lot of the things Justin considered faults were nothing of the kind, and that a number of things he considered assets were faults. He knew Justin was used to people telling him how great he was, to them bending over backwards to be sure he was happy, that his every need and desire was met.

Not this, though. Here was something Justin hadn’t ever asked of anyone but Chris, and now he’d asked Chris for it twice.

He got to his feet and Justin looked up at him and his expression was so open and beseeching and a little afraid as well and Chris would swear that not one ounce of it was calculated or planned or fake, and that was what finally made up his mind.

“Well,” said Chris. “Fine. That’s okay, then.” He fidgeted for a moment, touched Justin lightly on the shoulder. “So.” And he turned and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, leaving Justin sitting in front of his half-finished plate of eggs, staring after him.

Chris dropped his jeans and t-shirt in a pile on the floor. He adjusted the drapes and switched off the bedside lamp, then switched it back on again. He found the lube and a condom in the drawer of the nightstand and lay them on the bed within easy reach and then got under the covers and waited. It seemed to be taking Justin longer than it should to follow him upstairs and he wondered if perhaps he hadn’t been clear enough.

But then Justin was at the door, looking hesitant and unsure. “Um. Chris?”

“Get your ass in here.” Chris scooted over to make room.

“Oh,” said Justin. “So this means you’re – Oh!” He smiled. “Awesome!” He dropped his pants and climbed in next to Chris, sliding over until their bodies touched. Justin’s skin felt smooth and cool against his. Chris felt sweaty and hairy in comparison, but Justin didn’t seem to notice. He leaned up on one hand, smiling down at Chris and oh God, Chris wanted him, wanted him so badly and it was almost impossible to let himself just feel that without thinking that it was wrong after so many years of squelching those thoughts. And then Justin was running his fingers over Chris’ chest, light and slow, like he wasn’t in any particular hurry. “This is – we’re gonna do this? That’s what you mean, right?” Justin asked. His eyes looked kind of heavy, focused intently on his fingertip as it drew a circle around Chris’ nipple. Chris could feel something hard poking into his hip, and he was torn between pressing against it or jumping out of bed and running away like a little girl.

Instead, he rolled onto his side and pulled Justin down to his level.

“Yeah, we’re gonna do this.” He looked Justin in the eye. “Friends fucking and that’s it, right J? No hard feelings if it doesn’t work out, no weirdness afterward. Promise me.”

Justin looked very solemn, his forehead crinkling in that way it did when he attempted to project _gravitas_. “I promise, Chris.”

“And you don’t get to freak out about bodily fluids this time. Or about my dick. Or about –”

“I won’t! I won’t freak out. I promise.”

“Okay.” Chris took a breath. “Hands and knees? Or you want it some other way?”

“I. Uh.” Justin squirmed a bit. He seemed nervous. Hell, Chris was nervous. He ran a hand down Justin’s side, just a calming gesture, but the slight, angular contour of his hip fit so perfectly into Chris' palm that he lost track of the comforting and just stroked over and over, his hand gliding over bone and muscle and that alluring curve. “I thought maybe we could try it the other way,” Justin said hopefully. “You know. The other way from what we did before.”

Chris blinked, trying to process what Justin was saying, finally realizing that he meant the other way from what they’d done back in 2002. Holy hell. Justin wanted to top.

“Okay,” he said, a little weakly. Funny, he’d never considered this possibility and it wasn’t like he was really all that toppy of a guy or anything. Somehow he’d just never figured on things going this way with Justin. He’d never even fantasized about that with Justin, but obviously that was a mistake, because now that he thought about it, it was kind of a hot idea.

“I’ve actually given this a lot of thought,” Justin said earnestly. “I think we should – is this okay, if I say what I think we should do?” Chris nodded wordlessly, feeling a little out of his depth.

“So, I think you should ride me, dude. Yeah, I think that’d be cool.” Justin’s eyes took on a faraway look and Chris had a feeling he was imagining what that’d be like and he wasn’t sure if that was embarrassing or if he liked it. Justin’s attention snapped back to him. “Cuz then you can kind of control it.” Chris’ breath hitched as felt Justin’s hand low on his belly, rubbing in a circle, then moving lower. “But I’ll still be fucking you,” Justin said, looking Chris right in the eye and the really disturbing thing was the way Justin, who was to all intents and purposes a virgin when it came to gay sex, seemed completely at one with the idea of fucking him. Chris wondered just _how_ often Justin had thought about this. He was guessing a _lot_.

Chris jumped when Justin’s fingers bumped his cock and moved gently over it, feeling and exploring. “And I can watch you. That’ll be hot.”

“You wanna watch me?” Chris was dismayed at how high his voice sounded. Not a squeak, he told himself. He was definitely not squeaky.

“Yeah,” Justin nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah.”

Justin licked his lips and Chris watched that pink tongue move over those pink lips and the fucking gleeful twinkle in those blue, blue eyes. His fingers ghosted over Chris’ dick, which was hard as a rock and in need of something a little more solid than Justin’s feathery almost-there teasing touch, but Chris thought maybe that was all Justin was okay with since he hadn’t done this before, that is, since the last time with Chris and after all, Chris shouldn’t expect much of anything after how it had gone last time and anyway they were already doing better than _that_ and right then Justin’s hand closed firmly around Chris’ dick and pulled and _oh fuck_. Chris’ eyes rolled back in his head and all the air left his lungs in a strange, choked sort of whine.

“ _Gnnnnnggh_ ,” he gasped. Chris opened his eyes to see Justin smiling delightedly at him, his pointy little canines gleaming hungrily.

Okay, thought Chris. Okay. He was the experienced one here. He needed to get his shit together and act like it. But Jesus, Justin’s hand was moving just right, long, tight strokes up and down his length and he could barely even catch his breath, let alone form a coherent thought about what to do next, and then Justin threw back the covers and scooted down a bit and just _watched_ his hand on Chris' cock, a little furrow of concentration in his forehead and Chris tried to squirm away to no avail, because apparently Justin had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“I like it, man,” Justin said, looking up at him. “Your dick.”

“It freaked you out – last time,” Chris panted.

“I know. I looked online though. Did you know there’s lots of websites about uncut dicks?” Chris shook his head. Of all the things he’d looked at online, that was not one of them. “Yeah, neither did I, til I googled it.” Justin continued, jerking Chris off the whole time he was talking. “Very educational. I learned a lot. Knowledge is power, dude. See? Not freaked at all.” Justin leaned in and licked the tip of Chris’ dick, then worked his tongue in underneath the foreskin, wriggling it around and Chris yelped and grabbed at Justin’s head and then the base of his cock, unsure whether he wanted more or wanted him to stop.

“I learned that online,” Justin said smugly.

“T-technology,” gasped Chris.

“ _Exactly_ , dude.”

“Okay, J. I should - _ohhh_ , I should get – I should probably get – _fuck_ ,” as Justin wrapped his pretty, pink mouth around Chris’ cock and sucked. “J. Oh. I really should. Oh God, just – stop or I’m – _Christ_.”

Justin pulled back and gave him a toothy, slightly evil smile. “You wanna get on top now?”

Chris looked at him dazedly. “Who _are_ you, man, and what have you done with Justin?”

Justin slid up until his face was even with Chris’. “I’m right here, Chris,” he said softly, taking Chris’ face in his hands and leaning forward and Chris scrambled up to his knees and over Justin, because that looked like it was going to be a kiss, and dammit, friends fucking did not include kissing. Not in Chris’ book, no way.

He sat back on Justin’s thighs and grabbed the lube, feeling safer with a little distance between them, although he realized of course that Justin’s erection was pressed against his crotch, so it wasn’t like the distance and its attendant feeling of safety was anything but symbolic.

“I’ll do it,” offered Justin, holding out his hand.

“I think not,” said Chris, mindful of the lube disaster of ’02.

“I read up on it,” Justin insisted, with his hand still outstretched. “It’ll be okay.”

“Book larnin’ ‘ll only take you so far, whippersnapper.” Chris looked at the obstinate set of Justin’s jaw. Damn, that boy was bossy. “Seriously, next time, J,” he said.

Things were going pretty well. Surprisingly well. He had no desire to screw it up by Justin wigging out over lube again.

“Fine,” Justin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, which was not particularly intimidating stance with him flat on his back his dick nudging insistently at Chris’ balls. It did make his biceps look nice though.

“Here,” said Chris, handing him the condom and scooting back a bit. “You can deal with this.” Justin took the condom, but then he just lay there and watched Chris, his eyes getting darker and darker, mumbling, “oh yeah, so fucking _hot_ ” and “do it, Chris, yeah, like that” and “does that feel good, baby?”, all of which made Chris’ face burn and his dick twitch.

Chris lowered himself slowly and carefully onto Justin’s cock because, like he’d told Justin, he’d been sticking to girls lately, so he was out of practice. It burned all the way in, not overwhelmingly, just enough to be too much. Justin lay there making little gasping noises, his eyes hooded, his mouth opening and closing, his hands kneading Chris’ hips, his perfectly manicured fingernails digging sharply into his skin.

Chris finally settled, feeling the bones of Justin’s pelvis beneath his thighs and waited, overfull and too stretched and kind of uncomfortable, but Justin seemed to be feeling just fine, his expression totally blissed-out and his fingernails still sending shooting pains up Chris’ spine.

“Move,” said Justin, sounding hoarse and more than a little desperate.

“Wait –“

“ _Move_ ,” Justin insisted. “God, what are you waiting for?”

“Jesus, a little consideration, J. My fucking ass is on fire, man.”

Justin looked instantly contrite. He retracted his fingernails from Chris’ hips and stroked over the red marks he’d left. “Oh. Oh, sorry. Sorry, Chris. Fuck, do you want to stop?”

“No. No, just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.” Chris closed his eyes and tried to relax. He focused on Justin’s hands moving over his hips, down his thighs, back around to his ass, taking deep, slow breaths.

“Now?” Justin asked in a thin, reedy voice. Chris looked down at him. He was biting his lip, sweat standing out on his forehead, at the hollow of his throat. Chris wanted to lean down and lick it, but instead he just rolled his hips experimentally. He wasn’t prepared for the sizzle of electricity that shot through his nerves and he gasped, rocking down harder.

“Okay?” he managed, because he had to check, even though Justin was panting and wriggling beneath him.

“Fuck. Chris. Yeah, yeah, s’okay.”

Justin’s hips snapped up and Chris groaned because, _fuck_. He did it again, adding a little twist, and Jesus, it shouldn’t be this good, not when the kid didn’t know what he was doing, but it was. _So_ much better than last time. And then Chris let go of that thought, let go of the worries about whether this would work and what would happen after and just let it wash over him and he was moving, faster and harder and Justin was making all kinds of really incredible noises, most of them sounding like he was surprised as hell. Chris closed his eyes because watching Justin watch him with dark, dilated eyes teetered back and forth between too fucking hot and too fucking weird and keeping his eyes closed was way easier.

That was why he wasn’t prepared when Justin suddenly surged up, his hand strong behind Chris’ neck, and crushed their lips together in a hard, hungry kiss. Chris started and tried to jerk away, but he wasn’t going anywhere with Justin holding him there and his mouth open and hot and wet against Chris’ and his tongue pushing into Chris’ mouth like it had every right to be there. Chris just squeezed his eyes shut and kissed him back, a breathless, groping, biting, licking, hit-and-miss sort of kiss that was as much just gasping against each other's mouths as anything else. There was a lot of muffled moaning and whimpering and cursing and Chris hoped to hell it wasn’t all him, but really, he couldn’t be sure.

The noise went up a notch when Justin’s hands gripped his hips, slamming him down so hard onto his cock that Chris couldn’t even get a grip on his own. He had to look then, just had to. Justin was curled up, skin sheened with sweat, every muscle tensed and Chris felt his heart pound at just how fucking gorgeous he was. Chris was babbling _ohGodohGodohGod_ and then Justin looked up, his stunned eyes meeting Chris’ for half a second before he was lost, gone, arching and groaning and thrusting and _Jesus_ , Chris could _feel_ the throb of Justin coming deep inside him and it made him want more, made him need, _this_ , God, _this_ , again and again and more and now and _please_.

He finally managed to get ahold of his dick and jerked himself fast, pleasure filling him up, unbearably, unspeakably good. It took only half a dozen strokes and his head fell back on a ragged groan, sensation unspooling from his core, streaking through him, hot and wild. Justin’s hips jittered up just right to the accompaniment of a surprised _oh_ when Chris clamped down on him and Chris moaned as another shock tore through him. He folded down over Justin, shuddering helplessly as he came hard and sharp, coating Justin’s stomach with his spunk, his teeth sinking into Justin’s shoulder. It left him sprawled out, come wet and sticky between them, trying to catch his breath and stop shivering and Justin’s hand in his hair really wasn’t helping, with the way it was softly petting him as if he needed to be soothed.

Chris sighed and moved away, wincing a bit when Justin slid out and a bit more when he tried to straighten his knees, which didn't like that position one little bit. Didn't matter though, because the rest of him liked it a whole helluva lot.

He lay down on his side and risked a glance at Justin, sort of dreading what he might see there. That had been way, _way_ more intense than Chris had anticipated and he had no idea what to make of that, let alone what Justin would. And there was still the danger of another freak out. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

But Justin only smiled at him, a dazed, crooked, slightly goofy grin, and said, “ _Dude_.”

Chris smiled back, the tension beginning to drain out of him.

“ _Dude_ ,” Justin said again and Chris couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “Oh, _man_. Is it always like that?”

Chris cleared his throat. It felt kind of scratchy. He hoped he hadn't been really loud or anything.

“Um, no. Not always,” he said hesitantly. “That was – good. Comparatively speaking.”

Justin nodded, a bit smugly, Chris thought, and he couldn't help wondering what kind of monster he’d just helped to create. Then he was being buffeted about as Justin fidgeted and squirmed and pushed, trying to get his arms around Chris and his head on Chris’ shoulder.

“Ow,” said Chris, as their knees banged together.

“You’re all stiff, dude,” Justin complained. “Knock it off. I wanna cuddle.”

Chris made a conscious effort to relax as the biggest, or one of the biggest, pop stars in the world settled in beside him, making contented little mewing noises and pressing his face to Chris’ neck.

He fell asleep, the combined effects of doing a show, not sleeping and very energetic sex knocking him out so fast he didn’t even feel it happening. Justin woke him up sometime in the afternoon and fucked him again, then again in the shower, and later, across the kitchen table in the middle of a dinner of cold cereal, milk sloshing out of the bowls and making a godawful mess that didn’t slow them down in the least. By then Chris was starting to worry about the state of his ass, but only in an abstract sense because he hadn’t felt so warm and relaxed and so very, very well-used in years.

The next morning they were sprawled on the sofa in Chris’ living room, drinking coffee and smoking up and watching TV. Chris had the remote and was flipping channels in his usual lightning-fast, ADD manner.

“Wait!” cried Justin, struggling to sit up. “Back.”

Chris clicked back one station and there it was.

 _She, she, she want it_.

Chris’ head fell back against the sofa with a groan.

“What?” said Justin, turning to him in surprise. “You love this song.”

Of course Justin wouldn’t be able to conceive of Chris not loving the song.

“Yes,” Chris said, giving Justin a big, fake smile. “Yes I do. Why, I don’t know what I could have been thinking.”

Justin cuffed him on the shoulder and then leaned against him again, watching.

“That’s hot isn’t it? When I do that like _that_.” He mimicked his gesture on the video, flinging his arm out and nearly hitting Chris in the face. “And then she goes like _that_.” He arched, and it should have looked awkward in his position, but he still managed to pull it off with his usual effortless grace.

“Yeah, J,” Chris murmured, rubbing his fingertips back and forth over the velvety fuzz on Justin’s head. “It’s hot.”

Justin hummed happily. He felt really good beside Chris, squirming around until he was curled into a ball against Chris’ side.

There wasn’t anything so very different about this. He and J had sat on this couch many, many times, even all snuggled up together, even draped all over each other, or wrestling or tickling or whatever. But there was no doubt in Chris’ mind that it felt different today.

“This’s my favorite part,” Justin said, as the camera zeroed in down the hallway.

“Mine too,” confessed Chris. “I like – right there,” as Justin did the hand thing on the door frame.

“That?” Justin sounded surprised.

“Yeah. That.” They watched Justin making out with the door, then the girl. “This part’s good too.”

“We could act it out,” offered Justin, sounding excited at the idea.

Chris looked at him like he was crazy and then he burst out laughing.

“Oh, dude! If you think I’m anything like a hot, lingerie-wearing, red-headed chick, you are so fucked up.”

Justin flushed, then snickered, then he rolled them, pinning Chris to the couch. Chris tried to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. Damn, the guy was fucking heavy and strong on top of it and that made Chris’ skin heat and his breath come a bit quicker. And then Justin grabbed his wrists tight in his hands and raised them above Chris’ head, pressing them back into the cushions and nudging his leg between Chris’ and _oh fuck_ , a spark of arousal shot up Chris’ spine and his hips jerked involuntarily and Justin rocked into him, slow and hard, smiling like he had Chris all figured out.

“I don’t think of you like a chick, Chris. You’d make a fugly chick and I hope to God I never see you in lingerie.” He paused. “But I like it when you sit down on top of me.” And damned if he didn’t do that coy little downward glance exactly like in the video.

Chris wasn’t even fighting it anymore when Justin kissed him. He’d had to give up on that sometime between the shower and the kitchen table. So he just opened to him with a little moan, and it was slow and wet and deep and seemed to go on forever and it made him want, so much, and _oh_ , he wasn’t shaking, was he? There was not a single thing about it that bore any resemblance to a kiss between friends and he didn’t know if he should be elated or terrified. Justin moved over him, his heat bleeding into Chris and his hips – Jesus, his hips - and it had no business feeling like this – sweet and easy and perfect. It had no business feeling that way, but it did, God it did.

A few minutes later, when Chris gasped shakily, “C’mon, J, _please_ ,” he could hear the smile in Justin’s voice when he replied, “ _uh uh, he wants it, I gotta give it to him_ ”. Chris knew he shouldn’t let Justin get away with _that_ but he was too far gone at the moment for righteous indignation. Payback would have to wait. Instead, he just laughed and bit Justin’s shoulder and Justin chuckled low, his lips brushing Chris’ neck, raising goose bumps in their wake.

It occurred to Chris as Justin made his way down Chris’ body, kissing and licking and sucking and humming softly the whole time, that perhaps he’d been a bit hasty when he decided that the song was lame, that maybe it was possible that he’d rushed to judgment and hadn’t really given it enough of a chance. Because he had to admit that at the moment, listening to Justin hum the refrain in a husky, breathless voice, it sounded pretty damn good.

 


End file.
